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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597281">moving forward, it's all we can do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCBookworm/pseuds/JCBookworm'>JCBookworm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andromeda being the best aunt, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It's mostly fluff though, Narcissa Black Malfoy Redemption, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Redemption, Sad Draco Malfoy, ah well, and it turned into 9.5+k of pure self indulgence, but he's not been great in the past so it's for a reason, he's trying, i didn't proofread this because i am now desperate to get it done and out, narcissa being a good mum, she loves her son so much, this started as a sweet idea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:23:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCBookworm/pseuds/JCBookworm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, with Lucius locked back up in Azkaban, Narcissa and Draco move to their house in the country, in the middle of nowhere, to lay low and try to rebuild their lives. Moving forward after everything isn't easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Andromeda Black Tonks, Draco Malfoy &amp; Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco Malfoy &amp; Narcissa Black Malfoy &amp; Andromeda Black Tonks, Narcissa Black Malfoy &amp; Andromeda Black Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>moving forward, it's all we can do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started writing this literally ages ago, but since I've been at uni I've found myself writing fanfiction more. Which probably isn't a great sign. But it did mean that I had the opportunity to finish this... much longer than I was originally intending. But I love Andromeda, and Narcissa, and love all three of these characters bonding. It makes me happy.</p><p>That being said, Draco in the books is not misunderstood. He genuinely is a pretty nasty person. But he is also a child, and I do think that he should have gotten a redemption arc and that he can change for the better. And also that him becoming a Death Eater was not his idea and was mostly coercion. The Malfoys did not have a very good war.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco didn’t return for his final year at Hogwarts. She knows why, of course. She can see him now: he’s curled up in an armchair by the window, an open book on his lap. His eyes are fixed on the words, but he hasn’t turned the page in the twenty minutes she’s been standing here.</p><p> </p><p>The past few years have been difficult for them. For all of them. Lucius is in Azkaban now, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting out soon, or perhaps ever. She misses him – a lot. For all that they disagreed, she was very fond of her husband, and would probably have considered it love. That was better than a lot of pureblood relationships she knew: Bellatrix and Rodolphus, who seemed to fluctuate between incessant screaming fights and sudden, wild passion; Mother and Father, who existed in some strangely close apathy with each other; Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion, who had never truly gotten along and who certainly didn’t after Walburga descended to screeching at their sons and Orion to coming home with the perfume of other women on him. Yes, she and Lucius were certainly lucky in their match. She had wanted a similar one for Draco, but now he doesn’t seem overly interested in anything beyond his usual walk through the house. Bedroom, living room, dining room, bedroom. It’s a stretch to get him outside, most days.</p><p> </p><p>She’d hoped that the change of scenery might help. It’s not quite the long stretches of neatly kept lawns and hedges of Malfoy Manor. The garden is bordering on overgrown, and the forest nearby cast dark shadows through the day. But it’s comfortable enough. It was part of the Black estate, previously her father’s, and as the sole heiress she’s found that there are many properties and privileges that come with it.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a shame they’ve never had the chance to properly enjoy them.</p><p> </p><p>She stayed in the room that their parents used to sleep in for the first night, but she couldn’t sleep. Draco was in the spare fifth bedroom, where Sirius and Reggie had stayed when they accompanied the family, so she found herself back in her old room. It was odd, walking through the door and seeing all of her childhood possessions. Some of Mother’s household charms had ensured that the rooms were still in good condition, but everything in it looked so… fake.</p><p> </p><p>She’s grown up a lot.</p><p> </p><p>Over in the corner, in the drawer, is a box.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t open it.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>Three days go by, and Narcissa has opened the drawer seventeen times, taken the box out five of those times, and not opened it once. There’s not much inside, she knows: only some minor keepsakes from her childhood. But it’s difficult all the same.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t open the box for another five days, until the day she finally gets round to airing out the other rooms. Draco’s room had been fine, as it was fairly devoid of personalisation anyway, but she hasn’t yet opened the second or third bedroom. And so, when she walks into the latter unthinkingly and is hit by the sudden waft of cinnamon and pine that her sister had always favoured for the wintertime, she almost falls to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>She does not close the door fully when she leaves, simply pulls it to, then creeps back to her room to grab the box. Draco’s downstairs, so she is alone when she makes her way back into the room and pulls the door closed behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda’s room is painted in an off white apart from the warm grey on the wall with her bed, with dark wooden accents around the edge of the ceiling and furniture. Narcissa makes her way over and, warily, pulls herself up against the pillows. The patchwork throw that Great-Aunt Cassiopeia made is as soft as ever, and somehow has retained the fragrance. There is a pile of books stacked neatly by the side of the bed, and a hoop of embroidery that Narcissa can clearly see from her position is half-finished and stuffed under the armchair’s cushion. She smirks to herself at the little fragment of their past and opens the box with a click.</p><p> </p><p>Inside is a collection of photos, tied with a ribbon that Narcissa had used in order to remember the location and then immediately forgotten. The photos scatter across the bedding when she pulls it, a series of memories trapped in the confines of the photo. She picks up the nearest one and stares hard.</p><p> </p><p>Bella isn’t in this one, just two girls, playing by the lake. Narcissa’s hair is tied with a pink hair ribbon – the same one, in fact, which she’s now holding. Andromeda had pulled hers out and, in the photo, is chasing her little sister with it clutched in her hand. Narcissa isn’t sure who took the photo – Uncle Alphard, perhaps? – but the smiles and grins on the faces of the girls made her smile with them.</p><p> </p><p>Merlin, she misses her sister.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>The house is small, with a fence and a neat path leading up to the door. Narcissa tentatively feels for wards: they’re there, of course, but not as strong as they might have been. She pushes through and makes her way up to the painted door.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know whether to knock, now that she’s here. Andromeda would be well within her rights to throw her out without a word.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, she doesn’t need to knock, because the door swings open of its own accord.</p><p> </p><p>Behind it, there is a woman, brown hair pulled in a loose ponytail, slight lines around her eyes. They’re sad and tired. She’s still Andromeda, but that fierce determination and fire has cooled now: the deaths of her husband, her daughter, her son-in-law. Perhaps her sister too, but that was long before Molly Weasley cast the spell in the battle.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Cissy,” she says. She doesn’t look surprised to see her sister. Narcissa doesn’t bother to paste on a smile. Andromeda had always been able to see past them, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda doesn’t invite her in, but she does leave the door open when she steps away, and the fact that she didn’t immediately tell her to leave is probably invitation enough.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>They are sat on Andromeda’s sofa, staring at each other. It’s awkward – so awkward that Narcissa almost gets up to leave. The only reason she doesn’t is because Andromeda had made her a cup of tea (no milk, half a teaspoon of sugar, a squeeze of lemon) and it would be rude to leave it.</p><p> </p><p>“I saw the trial,” Andromeda says. She’s not looking at her sister, instead focused on her own tea (milk, no sugar, the slightest touch of honey). “In the paper, I mean. Congratulations.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s not entirely sure if her sister’s mocking her or not but she hums in acknowledgement anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she says. It falls to silence again.</p><p> </p><p>“How is Draco?”</p><p> </p><p>Merlin, this is painful. What was she thinking, coming here?</p><p> </p><p>“He’s… fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda can clearly see the lie, as she’s always been able to, but she nods.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a grandson now, correct?” Narcissa asks, then regrets it. Andromeda’s lips tighten and she places her mug down to touch the ring on her left hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she says finally. “Teddy. He’s a sweetheart.” She motions her head to the stairs. “He’s sleeping at the moment.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Narcissa takes another sip and they fall back into silence.</p><p> </p><p>“He looks like Nymphadora,” Andromeda says and Narcissa winces. She’d only met her niece a few times: once as a child and then briefly in the girl’s role as an Auror.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” There is a painful gap until Narcissa says, “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t kill her,” Andromeda points out. Narcissa’s never been able to get a hang of Andromeda’s coldly blunt manner. If they were in a different place and time, Narcissa might inform her that it makes her sound like Bella. Instead, she nods.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she agrees, “but I didn’t know her either. For that, I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Of course you didn’t know her.” Her voice is raised now, slightly. “She was the half-breed spawn of a blood traitor and a mudblood.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa winces again. “I’m—”</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m sorry</em>, she was going to say again, but she knows that doesn’t quite cover it. Andromeda watches her with cold grey eyes, then sighs again.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” she says quietly. “I’m not angry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>should</em> be angry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should be,” Andromeda agrees. “But I’m too tired for that now.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa knows the feeling.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>At some point, Andromeda manages to find a couple of bottles of alcohol in one of the cupboards and opens them, pouring the liquid into two glasses which are definitely too big to be actually intended for this purpose. It tastes different to firewhiskey, though it does still burn Narcissa’s throat as she tips it back.</p><p> </p><p>It probably wasn’t the best idea, and the alcohol is <em>strong</em>. But it’s difficult to regret too much when both sisters are finally talking, properly talking, and the silences are for drinking rather than because there is nothing to say. They’re not even talking about anything in particular, to be honest. They’ve settled into a companionable silence over the last of their drink when her sister speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“The manor must be pretty quiet now,” Andromeda muses. The unspoken ‘<em>You had a lot of guests</em>’ is clear, but luckily she isn’t quite that drunk yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Blackthorne Cottage,” Narcissa corrects, out of nowhere. Andromeda rearranges herself so that she can properly make eye contact and tilts her head curiously. Narcissa obliges the wordless request. “We’ve moved into Blackthorne Cottage for the time being.” She looks down almost shame-facedly. “It’s smaller, but no one really knows about it. It’s… easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not surprised no one visits!” Andromeda scoffs. “We haven’t been there since… you must have been, what, seven?”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa shrugs. “It’s mine now,” she points out, then sinks back into her seat, examining the contents – decreased though they may be – of her glass. “It’s all mine, now,” she repeats in a singsong voice. Andromeda grimaces and leans forward to remove the glass from her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I think that that’s enough, Cissy,” she says with the decisive calmness Narcissa associates with her sister.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmkay,” Narcissa sighs. She straightens herself and leans on one hand to focus on her sister better. “What are you doing next week?”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda blows a stray strand of hair out of her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Teddy’s going to stay with Harry for the week,” she says. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… I think he helps him. Gives him something to focus on.” She gives a half shrug. “And Harry is his godfather, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa hadn’t actually known that. But then, the boy’s father was Harry’s uncle, after all – or should have been, anyway, had their family not been destroyed. (Narcissa won’t admit it, but she does sympathise, despite the obvious clash between her family and James Potter’s. After all, she’s just trying to keep hers together now.)</p><p> </p><p>She nods. “Perhaps…” she takes a deep breath here, “you two could come visit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Visit?” Andromeda repeats.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to get to know him better. The way I never did his mother,” Narcissa admits.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda’s eyes widen. “That’s so cute, Cissy!” She coos. Narcissa glares.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that cute,” she snaps. And then, “He’s my nephew, after all,” she points out, as off handed as she can.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda grins wickedly then. “<em>Great</em>-nephew, Cissy. You’re a great-aunt now.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa scowls at her for a second, then they both start laughing. <em>That drink must have really gotten to me</em>, Narcissa thinks for a second, but she doesn’t particularly care when this is the hardest she’s laughed in years.</p><p> </p><p>“Our mother wasn’t even a great-aunt,” Andromeda says between breaths. Narcissa laughs harder. “We’re old now, Cissy.” Narcissa swats her.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re in our forties,” Narcissa retorted. “That’s hardly <em>old.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Andromeda’s smile turns sad. “I didn’t mean age.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa is silent. Then—</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you.”</p><p> </p><p>Whoops. She hadn’t meant to say that. It seems right, though, because Andromeda’s face lights up again. She slides over and pulls Narcissa into a slightly clumsy hug.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you too,” she hums against Narcissa’s hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Move in with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Andromeda raises her eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa blushes, which she never normally does, and folds her hand in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Well—” There is hesitation in her voice— “You said yourself, Teddy’s going to be staying with Potter. And even when he isn’t, you can’t raise a child alone.” Andromeda silently tilts her head and Narcissa immediately remedies the phrasing. “I mean, you shouldn’t. You don’t have to. We have plenty of room at Blackthorne. And it might be nice to be around each other again.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda focuses on her face, then turns to look around the living room.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my home,” she says softly. Narcissa is already nodding in understanding before her sister continues with, “But perhaps a change of scenery – <em>temporarily</em> – wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s eyes widen in delight and she sits up suddenly (too suddenly, if the dizziness in her head is any indication).</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>She arrives the next Tuesday, after Harry’s come by to pick up Teddy. Andromeda wasn’t, to be honest, as reluctant as she usually is to pass over her grandson. Harry is too busy making faces at Teddy to really notice, though he does make sure to bring over a new batch of cupcakes. She thanks him and hurries them both off before she can apparate to the arrival point.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s waiting there, of course, her hair neatly pinned up and clothes pressed. She smiles politely with a mask that would fool anyone else who wasn’t raised around her and her carefully hidden happiness.</p><p> </p><p>In the near distance is Blackthorne Cottage, as proud as ever, with the forest and the lake and gardens all a picture of her childhood. Narcissa guides her, one arm tucked around her own, down to the house and inside.</p><p> </p><p>The foyer is dark, thick curtains smothering the light from the window. The house is relatively clean, but the overall air is decidedly… miserable. Oh, for Morgana’s sake, Narcissa hadn’t even moved that most inconvenient cabinet from its place. For a house which has now been lived in for several weeks, it seems more like a small team of cleaners ran the place over for the actual tenants to arrive later.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda takes one more look around the small manor and shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been trying to run this by yourself,” she scolds her sister. “There’s no point in having everything clean when it <em>all</em> needs redoing.” She whips out a notepad and a muggle pen from her bag. “Let’s have a look.”</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda Tonks enters into their lives — back into their lives, in Mother’s case — with a storm of subtle criticism, advice, and efficiency. She took one critical look at the dark panelling and wallpaper along the stairs, at the curtains which they always forget to open, at the heavy brass chandelier in the foyer, and pursed her lips as she wrote something in that book. The pursed lips are an immediate sign that something is wrong. He dreads the inevitable day she turns her attention to him with those pursed lips and the damned notebook and he wakes up to her standing over his bed with scissors having cut his hair and burned his wardrobe.</p><p> </p><p>Draco hasn’t spoken to his aunt, focused entirely on avoiding her. She looks scarily similar to his <em>other</em> aunt. In fact, he might almost have thought they were twins had he not been told by his mother that they were born two years apart.</p><p> </p><p>Bellatrix was not a very good relative.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t known her really before she went to Azkaban: the few photos were simply a dark haired, haughty woman proudly presenting a tiny baby to the camera. Draco had always thought that she looked nice enough, smiling at his chubby form, but something had happened to her in that rock they call a prison. She had returned to their house, towering and formidable, a red slash of a smirk at her lips and a cold screech of a laugh, her hair wild and eyes flashing.</p><p> </p><p>She was a rather frightening person, all told.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need to go down to the basement and see the prisoners to know what was happening – though he had, of course, to make sure they had at least a humane level of food and conditions. As always, even during a good deed he made sure that he didn’t go too far, was covered and safe.</p><p> </p><p>He had always been a coward.</p><p> </p><p>The proximity to his aunt, so soon after the proximity to another, had left him with a horrible sensation that he knew which of the two he was most like, behaviour wise.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>“Why have you been avoiding me?”</p><p> </p><p>Draco had been contentedly thumbing through a book in his armchair, so she is not surprised when he starts, head flying round to his aunt in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” He asks, in the same politely reserved, quiet tone he’s been using on the rare occasions he has to speak to Andromeda. She recognises it as the one she always used to use when someone she didn’t know came up to her at a party and she was too unsure of their reactions to be comfortable speaking properly. She seats herself on the arm of the sofa opposite. He won’t meet her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the first time we’ve been alone in a room together. Why won’t you talk to me?”</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t look like Draco’s going to reply – that doesn’t hugely matter, she’s not leaving until she gets answers anyway – but when he does, his gaze is fixed back on the pages in front of him. She doesn’t reprimand him for not maintaining eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like her,” he says softly. Andromeda lets out a sigh of air, not needing to ask further. Even Harry got mixed up when they first met.</p><p> </p><p>“I get that a lot,” she admits. “We always looked similar. When we were very young father would sometimes confuse us.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles slightly at the memory. “It irritated your mother to no end.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s grey eyes have flickered up to her at some point, and she takes the cue to continue talking.</p><p> </p><p>“Cissy looks much more like your grandmother than Bellatrix or I did. She used to hate it — thought she was being left out, especially as she’s the youngest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother doesn’t talk about her childhood very much,” Draco tells her. Andromeda nods.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t really. Bad memories.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks curiously at Draco. “Do you have questions?”</p><p> </p><p>Draco thinks for a moment. “What were my grandparents like?” He asks. “I knew my father’s side, but I cannot remember mother’s.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda hums softly. “Your grandmother died just before you were born, your grandfather just after. You wouldn’t remember him, no.” She evaluates her words carefully before she tells him anything. “They weren’t the greatest parents. But they weren’t terrible. Mother was more concerned with raising proper pureblood ladies, and as long as we acted well she was good enough. Father left us mostly to be raised by mother and the house elves.” She let herself smile briefly. “We didn’t often see him unless he was giving us presents or treats.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s attention is fully fixed on his aunt. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he ventures warily.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking her head, Andromeda looks back at her hands briefly.</p><p> </p><p>“It didn’t seem so, when we were young. Neither of them were truly bad people, I don’t think. But they certainly weren’t parents. Father had the benefit of not actually being the direct heir of the fortune. That was Orion, then his children, then grandfather, then Uncle Alphard— the point is that he wasn’t in direct danger of inheriting the title, but he still had all the privileges that came with money and blood.” Her lips tighten momentarily at that last point before she continues. “They were just willing to make sure their daughters were raised well enough. Unfortunately, the presents didn’t really make up for the fact that we once spent two months without seeing father when we were all in the same house.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks over to Draco, who is looking slightly disappointed by the sombre tone, and lays a reassuring hand on his.</p><p> </p><p>“But no. It wasn’t terrible, and it was certainly better than some others. They did care for us I think, in their way. You know, it wasn’t even then who blasted me off the tapestry?” She nods at Draco’s raised eyebrow. “Cissy told me. It was Walburga. Mother and Father were going to leave me be, to ‘come back to my senses’.” She puts up air quotes for the last part and then giggles. “Their distance had other uses though. They never realised how often we used to sneak out to explore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Even mother?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Especially</em> your mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco smiles softly at that. “What did you do? When you snuck out?”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda makes her way over to the armchair she has selected as her regular spot and seats herself. She leans in close, as though about to divulge a secret. (She is, in a way. She can’t imagine Narcissa being very impressed at her telling Draco about their childhood activities.)</p><p> </p><p>“We went to the lake a lot,” she says, pointing to the lake in question.</p><p> </p><p>Draco screws up his nose. “Isn’t that dangerous at night?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda nodded in agreement. “It is,” she agrees, “as none of us were even in Hogwarts yet. So the fact that your mother had stolen Father’s wand so we could play didn’t do much good at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Gasping, Draco leans unconsciously in as well. “She did? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda shrugs. “She was the best liar. Bellatrix didn’t care enough about people’s feelings to bother learning and I could never quite get the hang of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“My Mother can’t <em>lie</em>,” Draco scoffs. “She’s an open book.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda privately thinks that Narcissa has probably improved her acting skills in the time that they’ve been apart, and she remembers what Harry told her about the Forest. But she’ll let Draco have this.</p><p> </p><p>“She was too sweet to not be believed,” she tells Draco instead. He nods as though this is believable enough.</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds fun,” he admits. She smiles at him. “Oh, it was.” Her eyes glint slightly as she thinks of something else. “But not as much fun as the time we snuck out to a muggle village.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s eyes widen at his aunt. She laughs and begins to tell the story, neither of them noticing when, an hour later, Narcissa stops at the doorway to watch them.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>Draco walks downstairs on Tuesday to find his aunt very calmly dismantling one of the kitchen cabinets.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” He demands, but gently. Even after their talk the other day, his aunt still makes him a bit wary, with how forceful she seems. She just tilts her head at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I,” she explains slowly, gesturing as though he is <em>quite</em> the prize idiot, “am taking these—” waves at the pile of wood on the counter— “down.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco dares to roll his eyes. “I can see that. <em>Why</em> are you taking the cabinets down?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well then say that, next time, dear,” Andromeda tells him, before returning. She does not answer Draco’s question for another cabinet, but just as he is about to risk asking again she starts speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“They were too dark,” she informs him, wrinkling her nose. “And very inconvenient. That one—” she jabs her finger towards a pile of wood which seems mildly charred— “kept biting me when I went to get a plate if I didn’t sing a certain tune.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco opened his mouth to speak, then closed it in confusion. He hadn’t actually been in that cabinet: or, to be honest, any of the cabinets.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he agrees instead, heading over to freshly brewed pot of tea. He makes one for his aunt and mother as well, to a thankful smile from the former. Mother arrives two minutes later, her hair neatly combed but still in a night robe. She doesn’t even bother to question her sister, simply giving her a light kiss on the cheek and then granting Draco a much less awkward kiss on the head.</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda has joined them sitting around the island to finish her tea, and she assesses Narcissa with a calculating eye.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you wearing today, Cissy?” She asks, her tone deceptively light. Mother blinks.</p><p> </p><p>“My day dress,” she asks, almost letting it sound like a question. “The one with the high neck and three-quarter sleeves.”</p><p> </p><p>Andromeda hums and then reaches below the counter to bring out a stack of magazines: most with the familiar moving pictures. A couple, though, are curiously frozen in place, and Draco has to take a sip of tea to avoid ogling the clearly muggle papers.</p><p> </p><p>“Your clothing is not helping you, darling,” Andromeda tells his mother. “Those dark, gloomy colours and styles. You, my dear, need a revamp.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like <em>these</em> colours,” Mother says. Her voice is uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>“You like pastel blue, Cissy,” Aunt Andromeda informs her calmly. “The dark green and black wash you out. Stop trying to make a point.” She turns her gaze on Draco. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>She reaches to the side and deposits the pile of magazines into her sister’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve circled a number of the robes which I believe will suit you best,” She says, guiding Narcissa to certain specific copies. “They’re slightly different to your usual attire, but I believe that you’ll find them refreshing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I have a choice?” Narcissa asks. Her voice, Draco notes in some surprise, is quite petulant.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you do, darling,” Aunt Andromeda soothes. “You can choose from <em>any</em> of the circled robes. I think you’ll enjoy some of the muggle ones I picked out too, they’re high end enough for you to like. Now—” and she turns to Draco with some sharpness. He wonders briefly if there’s still time to run, then dismisses the thought as too cowardly, even for him.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>People are staring.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa can feel the eyes on her as she walks through the inn. Morgana, their eyes are burning. She pulls herself up, tighter, higher. She is a Black and a Malfoy (though neither means a thing, not anymore) and she will do this. She <em>can</em> do this.</p><p> </p><p>Her vision has tunnelled, trying to avoid the glares and whispers. Mother’s lessons run through her head. <em>Rule #9: Back straight. Rule #14: Hold your head up. Rule #23: Do not look around, you have a purpose and gawking aimlessly at strangers is not it. Rule #32: Hair must be smooth and perfect. Rule #51: In your spare moments, recite the piano compositions for </em>Odes to a Silver Night<em>. The tune can keep you centred.</em> She is halfway through the first composition when she forgets a key. And people are staring. She can feel their eyes, and she hasn’t been in public in so long, and—</p><p> </p><p>A hand fixes itself on the inside of her arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe, Cissy,” Comes a voice, low enough to be heard only by her. “Focus on my voice.” Softly, very softly, the voice starts to hum <em>Chanson de Mille Bougies.</em> She follows the familiar tune with her breath and, very slowly, the world opens up again. Andromeda is still guiding her by the arm firmly, and to anyone else it would just look like a comfortable walk, rather than a much needed support.</p><p> </p><p>She follows her sister through the doorway in the back and into Diagon Alley, through the archway. It’s busier, here, and full of shouting and noise, enough that they go… well, not unnoticed. A pathway still clears before them. But it’s easier to move on.</p><p> </p><p>The last time she went to Diagon Alley was just after the trial, when she had gone to collect some new clothes and supplies before her and Draco’s relocation. It had been much harder then: the Battle still fresh in everyone’s memories, glares and mutters thrown her way, or some not even <em>that</em> subtle. She’s well aware that most people wanted to see her thrown into Azkaban with her husband. That she would have been, had Harry not stepped in on their behalf. Sweet boy, though every time she looks at him it turns her stomach, thinking of the dark times.</p><p> </p><p>But she can do this. She focuses on Meda’s warm presence next to her as they walk along the cobbled streets.</p><p> </p><p>The tea shop, when they finally get to it, is quite small and quaint, with mismatched furniture and knitted blankets thrown over the backs of the armchairs. Andromeda heads straight for a table in the back – it’s airy enough that it doesn’t feel like a trap, but it has a good view of all the other seats. A wizened little witch hurries over as soon as she sees them.</p><p> </p><p>“Mrs Tonks!” She coos in a thick Yorkshire accent. Andromeda grins at her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve told you, you’ve known me since I was young. Andromeda’s fine,” she says, but the witch has already waved her off.</p><p> </p><p>“And who’s this?”</p><p> </p><p>“My sister, Narcissa,” Andromeda introduces. “Cissy, this is Ms. Aasland.”</p><p> </p><p>“A pleasure to meet you,” Narcissa begins, but the woman pulls her in for a hug.</p><p> </p><p>“Call me Marjorie. Everyone does.” She leans back and almost bodily forces them into their seats. “I’ll get you some tea and cake. No—” she holds a hand up to silence Narcissa’s protests. “I’ll pick. Trust Marjorie, dear.”</p><p> </p><p>She scurries off to the back room with far more energy than her age might suggest. Narcissa looks over to Andromeda, wide-eyed, to find her sister laughing at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s Marjorie,” she giggles.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa nods, slowly, still somewhat taken aback. “She’s…nice,” she offers. Andromeda smirks at her in return, sinking down into her own seat.</p><p> </p><p>“I used to come here on shopping trips and meet up with some of my friends. It’s far enough away that no one else I knew – yes, including you and Bellatrix – would be able to find me.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa remembers those trips well. Bella would disappear down Knockturn, she’d find a few school acquaintances and go shopping, and Andromeda would meet up with her friends. The only difference is that they’d assumed that Andromeda had meant proper Pureblood connections, not the back corner of a small café with a ragtag group as mismatching as the furniture. She looks around and thinks that maybe that wouldn’t have been too bad after all.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>“Meow.”</p><p> </p><p>There is a cat on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Draco isn’t really sure what to do about that, and the cat’s staring at him in expectation. He tries to move to sit up as slowly as possible, without greatly disturbing the covers. The cat looks distinctly unimpressed.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Draco begins, unsure exactly of what to say. He hasn’t had a cat before: Millicent had one, as did Blaise, but they were both expected. Neither Bruce nor Lady Winnifred Artemisia Rose II had just been sat on his chest, glaring at him, when he woke up in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>(Winnie had, to be fair, once snuck into his trunk and gone to sleep there. She would have ended up back at Malfoy Manor, had her whining not alerted them on the train. Pansy had found it all highly amusing, even if Blaise had almost cried.)</p><p> </p><p>It has long white fur and a faintly disgruntled look on its face. Its eyes are burning with hatred – Draco can just see it. He suddenly feels very nervous and immensely regrets moving, rather than doing the rational thing of returning to sleep in the hopes that this was a dream.</p><p> </p><p>That’s part of a secret he’d never told Blaise, or any of his old friends.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>hates</em> cats.</p><p> </p><p>They were <em>everywhere</em> in Hogwarts. You could barely walk five yards without seeming one of them lounging around, taking up all the space. Daphne – because you actually couldn’t keep a secret from her – had once told him it was because he felt threatened by them acting too similar to him, but he really didn’t believe that. It didn’t matter, anyway. The bottom line was, cats always seemed far too aloof for him to know what they were thinking. One minute they were all over you, the next they’d attack if you even stepped too close. He wasn’t a fan of many animals to be honest, owls being a rare exception, but cats had always left him with an irrational uneasiness.</p><p> </p><p>Which once again leads him to the question: why was there a cat on his chest?</p><p> </p><p>He is wondering if it would be possible to try Apparating downstairs (and possibly locking his door) when the cat stands, moves its face closer to Draco’s, then abruptly hops off the bed and trots away, leaving Draco concerned and still wondering if this is some kind of strange fever dream. Deciding quickly that it is not, he pulls his covers off and trails behind, concerned.</p><p> </p><p>The cat actually peers over at him before it prances down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>He follows uncertainly, wondering to himself absently why he is following a cat down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>In the foyer, however, the sight he sees is even more confusing. His mother, sorting out some flowers on the table with the cat purring against her legs and no sign of visible distress in her expression.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother,” he calls warily. And then, just in case she hasn’t noticed, “There’s a cat there.”</p><p> </p><p>Mother brightens when she sees him.</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t he cute?” she coos, scooping up the little monster. The cat winds itself up and around her shoulder to rub against her cheek. It looks like he’s smirking. Draco already hates him. “His name is Felis.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t that just Latin for ‘cat’?”</p><p> </p><p>Mother glares at him slightly, but she’s doing that thing where she tries to cover a smile, so he doesn’t take offence.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad to see that you know your languages, dear,” Aunt Andromeda says, walking in at that moment. She smiles slightly at her younger sister, who is making noises and heart eyes at the cat. “He’s your mother’s new pet.”</p><p> </p><p>“We used to have one when we were younger,” Mother explains, still snuggling against the fluffy demon. “Then she ran away. I always wanted another.”</p><p> </p><p>Aunt Andromeda grimaces. “She got hair on Bellatrix’s black robe,” she corrects in low tones to Draco. “I don’t know exactly what happened next, but it certainly wasn’t as pleasant as simply running away.”</p><p> </p><p>An understanding wince, and Draco turns back to his mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you just get one, if you always wanted another?”</p><p> </p><p>Mother frowns in consideration.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, really,” she admits. “There were other things to think about during the First War. Then I had you, so I didn’t really need one.” She pinches his cheek and walks off, still with the cat in her arms, as though that will make up for the fact that she just told him he was the replacement for a <em>cat</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Felis peers over Mother’s shoulder just as they go into the kitchen and makes eye contact with Draco.</p><p> </p><p>He has a new enemy.</p><p> </p><p>He will not be replaced by this small devil.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>They are seated in the conservatory when Draco meets his cousin (once removed). Aunt Andromeda has had to leave occasionally after the first week, but apparently the boy was being passed around the various members of <em>that</em> group.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my grandson,” she introduces. It is a quiet moment, all of them seated in the living room. Narcissa smiles sadly at the boy.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s very cute,” she says. Draco personally thinks that all babies look pretty much the same and that his mother would say that about any, but to be fair he hasn’t really seen many babies before. This one does seem sweet, his nose scrunching up in his sleep. The baby widens its mouth then in a violent yawn which threatens to split his face in two. Draco feels his lips tugging up, unconsciously.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like to hold him?” Aunt Andromeda asks, as the boy’s eyes blink open.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t particularly, not when the risk of dropping him is so high, but he nods anyway and holds out his arms, letting his aunt sort the child out.</p><p> </p><p>The child – <em>Teddy</em>, he reminds himself, he’d already been told that – blinks up at him with large eyes, and then his cyan hair ripples and turns the same icy blond as his own. Draco blinks, startled, as Andromeda and his mother giggle.</p><p> </p><p>“Nymphadora did the same thing when your mother held her,” Andromeda reminisces. Draco risks a glance up at them both. He hadn’t known that his mother had ever so much as met his cousin, but perhaps, looking at his mother’s face as she looks at Teddy, it isn’t so surprising after all.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>The real kicker comes when he walks into the owlery one morning to send a letter to Theo and finds his darling, sweet Pallas snuggled rather comfortably against Felis’ side.</p><p> </p><p>He’s had Pallas for a few months now, and he absolutely loves her. It took a bit of getting used to: he’d had Calliope for almost seven years until she died in his last year of school, and his mother bought Pallas as a kind of comfort bird. She doesn’t have the same mannerisms as Calliope did, nor the regal attitude. She’s smaller, for one thing, and is extremely excitable. It’s quite cute, actually. So finding that evil, mother-stealing fiend has also managed to worm his way into his owl’s life as well—</p><p> </p><p>Well, that is simply not on.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>D—,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                Thanks for the letter. You may notice that this is the first time I’ve written to you, seeing as you dropped off the grid randomly and haven’t bothered to let any of us know where you were.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not that I was worried. I wasn’t. But it still was kind of awful of you. Especially <strike>after everything you went through and then I had no idea either where you went after the trial or if you were okay</strike> because you never said if you were coming back to school. So.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not many people did return, to be honest. The only Slytherins from our year now are me, Daph and Millicent. They wanted me to send their greetings, by the way. I didn’t give them your address but if you want a letter then I would send it yourself sooner rather than later. In lieu of that, there’s some letters from them enclosed. I’d be careful: D’s pretty annoyed that you disappeared, and then M told Theo that I got a letter, so I’d contact him as well.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not much new going on at school. There’s quite a few new Slytherins this year, but they’re mostly sticking to themselves. We’ve been keeping an eye on them, but we don’t want to seem too overprotective because… well. Bad associations, right? Anyway, the other houses seem to be encouraging integration, especially with the first years, but it’s pretty difficult. McGonagall can go on all she wanted about unity, but seeing as seven eighths of the school remembers last year, it’s not exactly going to happen anytime soon. M seems more knowledgeable about it than I am, to be honest we’re just going to get through the year and then leave. So I suppose actually the whole three quarters of the school hating us isn’t actually that new. Oh well.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The only other thing that’s really different is the common room. It’s a lot lighter, which is nice. There’s some new furnishings, which is probably because the old ones were all broken when we had to stay in here last year. Also, the girls are now sleeping in our dorm because <strike>we</strike> they were having trouble sleeping. D took your bed. Sorry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m going to end it here. If you want more info then I guess you’re going to have to send another letter. With actual information in it this time, not just a return address and some vague greetings.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> —B</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Draco Malfoy</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                So Blaise probably already told you like the gossip he is, but I’m pretty upset with you. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Oh, I know, “It’s not very Slytherin to show so much weakness” well I don’t care! Theo, Pansy, neither of them returned, but THEY at least had the decency to tell us.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know you’re going through a tough time. I can’t even imagine it. We get stares when we go out, and Mother and Father weren’t even involved in the battle. But if you try and do that thing where you just completely shut away and pretend that you don’t need help, I’m going to be very put out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Honestly, how is it that you scratch your arm and cry about it to all of us for weeks, but as soon as something actually serious happens there’s a sudden shut off of contact? Unbelievable.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Astoria’s doing very well in her studies, as I’m sure you’re very interested to know. It doesn’t matter if you’re not, I’ve already been telling Blaise and Millicent enough so now you can suffer to hear it. She’s top of her class! And, the other day, she actually managed to summon a patronus! It’s a squirrel, which is absolutely adorable. I’m so proud of her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What’s this I hear about your aunt? Andromeda, right? I hope she’s not too bad. If so, let me know.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We might come visit you over hols, if you’re not too busy brooding.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                Lots of love,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                Daphne .</em>
</p><p>
  <em>P.S. I know that Blaise probably tried to play it off, but we do miss you.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Dear Draco,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                It’s pretty different without you. I know you’re going through some stuff, but it would be nice to hear from you. I’m glad though that you’re as well as you can be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I imagine Blaise and Daph have both told you most of the important stuff, so I’ll just cover it briefly:</em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>The house tables are technically more like guides now, to increase integration. It’s really only working with siblings or classmates.<br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Bruce met a lady cat over the holidays and is now the father of a litter. I’ve enclosed pictures.<br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>Our year’s classes have all been combined, even the subjects where there used to be more than one. I imagine you can guess why.<br/><br/></em></li>
<li><em>McGonagall’s bringing in a counsellor. Unfortunately, this involves group therapy (yes, another integration method). It’s very uncomfortable.</em></li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Anyway, I hope you write back, but don’t feel pressure. I know Blaise and Daph probably are insistent, but it’s your choice. That said, I do hope that you reply.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>                Signed, Millicent .</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>P.S. I’ve also enclosed some puff pastries I made. There’s a charm, so they should stay fresh. It’s a new recipe. If you do write back, please tell me what you think of them.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>There is a small staircase up to the loft at the back of the house. It’s cramped and plain, with slightly peeling whitewashed walls and bare wooden flooring.</p><p> </p><p>It’s also quiet.</p><p> </p><p>It was presumably a servant’s corridor, once, because there are no windows to speak of and, therefore, there are no sounds from outside. This makes it the perfect place for Draco to get some—</p><p> </p><p>Rest?</p><p> </p><p>Peace?</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t really work for either of those. It just means that he’s <em>alone</em>, with no one nearby to see him or check on him, and it gives him a sense of quiet that is independent of the lack of sounds.</p><p> </p><p>Everything’s so different now.</p><p> </p><p>He’s sat on the stairs against the wall, knees tightly brought up to his face. It doesn’t stop the shuddering sobs, but it does help him muffle the sounds, keep them for himself.</p><p> </p><p>The nightmares haven’t stopped. Every night, the only dreams that come are of the last year, of cruel laughter and lowered eyes, of a constant tenseness no matter where he went. Of no way out, no peace in sight. And now, now that it is, finally over—</p><p> </p><p>His hands shake sometimes. He remembers Crabbe, falling to the flames. Of Goyle, struck by a bolt of light. His mother, shrieking his name as she ran through duels and fired curses. His father, grabbing his shoulder, his face worn and haggard as it had been all year.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mrow</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco tilts his head to see a neat ball of white fluff perched on the stair below him and rolls his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Come to laugh at me too, hmm?” He asks. Fantastic. Now he’s talking to a cat. But it’s very difficult to care when he’s struggling to see through his tears.</p><p> </p><p>He shouldn’t be like this, not really. After all, he’s alive, and isn’t locked up in Azkaban. Mother’s safe. Father isn’t, but it’s becoming more difficult to summon any sort of anger over that.</p><p> </p><p>And even so, it’s not like he deserves to be sad. Not after what he did – or tried to do, at least. Not after what he saw, when he stood by and did <em>nothing</em>, like a <em>coward</em>, even though he knew it was wrong and he could have helped, he could have done something but he just <em>watched</em> and—</p><p> </p><p>Felis squeezes himself into the tight gap between Draco’s thighs and torso, paws pressing in as he squirms to adjust himself, then lifts himself up and licks the tears Draco hadn’t realised were falling.</p><p> </p><p>Draco lets out a sob and buries his face in the cat’s fur.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>Aunt Andromeda had left Draco in charge while her and Mother went for their “girls’ night out” and, at the time, he’d been perfectly fine with the prospect.</p><p> </p><p>He is regretting it deeper than he’s regretted perhaps anything.</p><p> </p><p>Teddy always seems like such a sweet boy! Mischievous, sure, but he’s a baby. How much trouble could he actually be?</p><p> </p><p>Answer: A Lot.</p><p> </p><p>Draco has only just got him to sleep after the child had decided that he wanted a game of tag and began racing, before crying for almost an hour.</p><p> </p><p>And then there comes a noise. The front door, opening. Mother and Aunt Andromeda aren’t supposed to be back yet. So who…</p><p> </p><p>“Andromeda!” Comes a voice. Draco straightens instinctively. It— no. His luck surely isn’t that bad. Except, as a tall man with bright green eyes rounds the corner, he realises that it clearly is.</p><p>Potter stares at him. He stares at Potter. They both have their hands on their wands, ready in a moment to attack or defend.</p><p>That is, until a shriek pierces through the tension and they both swing to turn at the screaming baby.</p><p> </p><p>“Congratulations,” Draco sneers automatically. Potter seems taken aback.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve woken him up.” Draco hurries over to Teddy’s cot and, flustered, starts waving his hands in some semblance of a quieting gesture. He glances back over to Potter, who is standing bewildered in the hallway. “Well?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well what?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You</em> woke him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did not.” Potter is rather indignant, but he strides over anyway, previous quarrel apparently forgotten. “He just… woke up. He’s a baby. They do that.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco doesn’t know how much experience Potter has with babies, but he’s relatively sure that Teddy waking up was Potter’s fault. Still, though, he’d promised Aunt Andromeda that he’d look after the boy, and it would hardly be right to abandon his duty just because someone else has turned up.</p><p> </p><p>He leans in and gathers the child in his arms, trying to shush him the way Aunt Andromeda can. It isn’t really working. And Potter, of course, is just standing there, gawping like a fish. Draco levels him with a glare.</p><p> </p><p>“Well?” He snaps. “Go get some food or something from the kitchen.”</p><p> </p><p>Potter looks like he’s about to protest on principle, but then Teddy wails again and he hurries off dutifully.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder if the boys have met yet,” Andromeda muses over her cocktail. Narcissa just smirks.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>It’s been half an hour now.</p><p> </p><p>Teddy is still testing out the extent of his lungs. Draco and Potter are switching who gets to hold him and who gets to try and calm him with food or toys. Neither job is particularly good. Draco wonders if he might cry soon, too.</p><p> </p><p>Potter has just handed Teddy off to Draco before he is rummaging around in his pockets for something, and pulls out a strange, small contraption.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call Hermione,” he mutters to himself. “She’s done babysitting before, she’ll know—”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Draco interrupts, breaking out of the uncomfortable silence he’s been in. He doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he does know that seeing any more of Potter’s little gang would be a bad idea.</p><p> </p><p>Potter stares at him in a careful evaluation for a second. “Yeah, okay,” he says then, pocketing the box-thing. “Probably right.”</p><p> </p><p>Teddy eventually calms down when Draco finds the little dragon figurine Teddy had liked so much in what is now the nursery. It’s a familiar object: Draco is almost certain that it found its way here from <em>his</em> nursery, but despite that he doesn’t really mind. It’s too cute when Teddy gurgles at the dragon and it nudges its head against him in response.</p><p> </p><p>Both men stand over the crib, watching carefully as Teddy giggles, then throws his arms around the dragon and finally – <em>finally</em> – goes to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a miracle,” Potter breathes, staring at the child. Draco can’t find it in himself to disagree, and they both collapse on the sofa against each other. By the time they both register it, it seems to awkward to do anything more than shift away slightly.</p><p> </p><p>Potter coughs uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>“How… have you been?” He asks eventually.</p><p> </p><p>It’s such a mundane, pointless thing to say. So innocuous, so unbefitting of their history together. Draco isn’t sure whether it’s that, or the bizarreness of their situation, or how tires he is, but when he starts laughing he can’t stop, and soon Potter joins him.</p><p> </p><p>When the chuckles have mostly died down, Potter coughs slightly and lets out a breath, then sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Silly question, I guess,” he comments, and Draco nods.</p><p> </p><p>“It is, rather.” He straightens himself. “I’m… doing better.”</p><p> </p><p>Potter sends him a startled look. Draco scoffs.</p><p> </p><p>“Aunt Andromeda says that I need to get better at expressing my emotions,” he explains.</p><p> </p><p>An expression flicks over Potter’s face. “<em>Aunt</em> Andromeda?” he questions.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s my mother’s sister. Surely you knew that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I did. That’s not what I meant.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco bites his lip and nods slightly. “I know. It’s… a recent development.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what you’re doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>Trying to rankle against the seemingly suspicious tone, Draco nods again. “Mother and Aunt Andromeda have gone out for the night, so they said I had to fulfil my ‘cousinly duty’ and babysit Teddy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cousin,” Potter repeats thoughtfully. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unsurprising,” Draco sniffs automatically. Rather than looking offended, Potter smirks slightly, as Draco decides that this is as good a time as any to take his aunt’s advice.</p><p> </p><p>“Potter,” he says, making sure that he isn’t about to make eye contact. This will be uncomfortable enough, after all. “I… wanted to apologise to you. For my actions in Hogwarts, and for everything…”</p><p> </p><p>He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling the gaze of green eyes pressing into him.</p><p> </p><p>And then—</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s head whips up to meet Harry’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“of course, it’s not,” he spits. “I am trying to apologise, the least you could do is wait until I’ve got it out—are you <em>laughing</em> at me?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s eyes definitely have a glint of amusement in them, but he takes a moment to sober himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose what you did wasn’t alright,” he says eventually. “But you were a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not for the last part.”</p><p> </p><p>Considering this, Harry nods. “I suppose. But you were still in a difficult circumstance. And though none of that excuses your actions, the fact that you’re trying to do better means that you know that.” He looks down and swallows before continuing. “After… everything, I suppose I’ve realised that you can choose to hold onto your anger, to let it turn bitter and hateful. Or—” and here he turns to look at Draco firmly, in his eyes the glint not of the Chosen One, but of Harry Potter—“you can move on. Accept that you can’t change the past, and hope that together people can change, can be better. Not everyone has to forgive you, and some won’t but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”</p><p> </p><p>His grey eyes sting slightly as Harry speaks. He’s not really sure what else to say, until Harry chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>“Besides,” he says. “I just spent half an hour with you trying to put to sleep the child of a werewolf and a blood traitor half-blood. That’s hardly the same Draco who stole Neville’s Rememberall.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco groans and covers his face to hide his smile from Harry’s laughter, before he gives in and they once again begin to laugh together.</p><p> </p><p>“I was really terrible, wasn’t I?” Draco sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Harry grins in reply.</p><p> </p><p>There is a moment of silence until Draco curiously looks at the other man. “What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry looks momentarily surprised. “Uh—well, I messaged Andromeda to see if she was free. And she said I could come over tonight and help with Teddy—”</p><p> </p><p>His face freezes. “She tricked me,” he whispers.</p><p> </p><p>Draco nods sympathetically. “I think she does that a lot. She likes to get her way,” he informs him.</p><p> </p><p>A regretful shake of the head from Harry. “Yeah.” He sighs again. “I’d help myself to some of those special biscuits she keeps in revenge, but she never tells me where they are.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco sends him a wicked grin.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a good job, then,” he muses, standing and walking over to the bookshelf in the corner, “that you’re here with her nephew.” He winks at Harry as a panel disappears, revealing behind it a porcelain jar. “Mother keeps hers in the same place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Draco Malfoy,” Harry says. “You are full of surprises.”</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>The morning dawns with a spread of clouds across the sky and a slight mist over the lake. Draco shivers, shrugging on a jacket – It’s his old Slytherin Quidditch jumper, actually – and some slippers before he makes his way downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Felis meets him at the top of the staircase and, nose in the air and tail proud, prances down before him. Draco rolls his eyes and tries not to regret not getting rid of the monster before it was too late.</p><p> </p><p>Aunt Andromeda and Mother are not in the kitchen when he reaches the bottom, but some careful listening and searching leads him to the back orangery, where a little table is set up with the teapot and croissants.</p><p> </p><p>“Do join us, dear,” Aunt Andromeda says, sipping blithely away at the china. Mother smiles at him in greeting, tapping the chair next to her in a silent invitation. He hops down onto the stone flooring and accepts the freshly pouring teacup from his aunt. Teddy is snoozing away, Felis curled up on his lap.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not really the same, the four of them here for breakfast tea. But it’s a nice kind of not-same. It’s the kind of normal he could get used to without taking for granted.</p><p> </p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>                Dear Blaise, Daphne and Millicent,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t have time to write you individual letters right now: doubtless you would just share the contents with one another anyway, so such a venture would be unnecessary. Regardless, my aunt is taking me into the (muggle!) town today for supplies so I genuinely am on a time limit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My apologies for not replying before. I have been facing… a number of changes. I did appreciate you all writing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>B: Yes, I predicted that the girls would harangue you until you let them see the letter. That is why I only bothered to include one, and why I sent it to you. I’m rather impressed that you held out. And I sent Theo a letter the same time I sent you one, as well as one to Pansy. I don’t mind that the girls are sleeping in our dorm so long as you remember <span class="u">not</span> to let either of them looking under the floorboard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Daph: I am very sorry for worrying you, though it is rather pleasant to hear. Yes, I am aware that my decisions have not been the best, but I’m trying to get better. Promise. And I am pleased to hear about Astoria, she was always a bright and pleasant girl. Do give her my congratulations. As for my aunt—there is no need for underhanded threats. Aunt Andromeda is, though occasionally blunt or teasing, a rather lovely woman and she cares very deeply. I think you’ll like her. Please do not destroy my bed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Millicent: Thank you for providing me with an actually informative letter. Yes, I agree that these supposed ‘integration’ methods seem rather clumsy, but I suppose that they have to appear to be making some change. I’m sure Bruce will make a wonderful father. You’ll be pleased to know that mymother has gained a new cat as well: an irritating snob named Felis. He his awful, but he does grow on you. The pastries were all delicious, we enjoyed them greatly. My aunt recommends making some with orange and cinnamon if you wanted to attempt different flavours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To all of you, again, my apologies for worrying you. I would like to extend an invitation over the break to visit Blackthorne Cottage. It’s a charming place, and you can meet my aunt and cousin. I do hope that you’ll agree, as it would be wonderful to see you all again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That being said… we’re going into Hogsmeade next Saturday. If you wish to meet up, then please respond with the affirmative. I have truly missed you all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco Malfoy ~</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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